


Pearled

by chubbychoco



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Denial, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5445059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbychoco/pseuds/chubbychoco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With clean underwear about as rare as a hot meal, Daryl is willing to look in some rather unusual places for new skivvies.  Besides, it's not like anyone is going to see them, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pearled

The mall was stripped bare of useful things. It wasn’t surprising. In disaster situations, people flocked to malls - for shelter, for looting, for family, for one damn reason or another. So the fact that there was no food, no bedding, and no tools to be found, although frustrating, wasn’t very surprising.

That didn’t stop the place from being useful, though. The water tanks on the roof were still half-full, and solar-heated, which meant hot showers for all - that was a celebration that even the stoniest among them hadn’t been able to resist. But Daryl was putting off his shower for the moment. Not that he didn’t plan on taking one. He did, at length. But first, he wanted to see if there was anything clean he could change into.

Jeans, he found in abundance. Picked over, yes, but malls had jeans enough for years. The shirt was a little harder to find - all that was left was a few decidedly off-beat t-shirts either with humor that didn’t match his, or from cartoons he didn’t recognize. He eventually settled for the least colorful one in the bunch, then looked around for a good pair of boxers. Hell, he’d even settle for briefs, so long as they were clean.

But the underwear was gone.

Not a pack of Hanes or Fruit of the Loom to be found. Daryl swore under his breath as he stalked the open halls of the mall, looking in store after store. Hell, he’d even take a semi-clean pair from an employee locker. Anything but the awful pair with a hundred holes he was currently sporting.

Anything.

Any…

Daryl slowed down as he passed a Fredrick’s of Hollywood, his stony gaze flickering with thought. Years of Merle hissing for him to stop being such a girl had hammered an immediate distaste for feminine articles into him…but on the other hand, they would be clean. Impractical and flashy, but who else was going to see them? Who else had to know?

He grabbed several different sets, hoping one of them would feel minimally lacy, and took off to the showers.

The water was sheer bliss. Daryl groaned with the long-awaited physical pleasure, the ecstasy of a sensation he once thought he’d never feel again enough for his groin to take a passing interest. Damn, if a hot shower was enough to do that to him, he thought with mild annoyance, he really needed to get laid.

He took his time under the warm, comforting stream…but eventually, he had to dry off. And then there was the dilemma of which underwear to use.

The first pair he tried on, a red number with a faux diamond right over where a woman’s clitoris would be, dug in uncomfortably and made him snarl. The second and third were no better, but the fourth…the fourth pair was actually quite comfortable. A translucent black fine-print lace opened up to display exactly what a lover would want access to, with a string of fake pearls running over the top, cutting through the soft brown thatch of his treasure trail. He tucked his still semi-erect member sideways and reached for his knife to cut away the pearls…and then they rolled and rubbed at the top of the base of his shaft, and Daryl’s eyelids fluttered.

Oh.

Well, they certainly wouldn’t have served that purpose on a woman; the position was all wrong. But with his anatomy, they served a function completely independent of decoration…and although he had originally planned on making the undergarments as simple and masculine as possible, he changed his mind now, bracing himself against the wall and rolling his hips experimentally, just to see if it was a fluke. It was not. They dug in just a bit, sliding over his shaft again. Daryl closed his eyes and bit back a groan.

His mind then went to the matching top that had come with it. Barely even a bra, it was a thin strip of the same lace the panties were made of, and more pearls - these ones clearly placed so that they could be rolled over the wearer’s nipples. The bra hadn’t originally factored into Daryl’s intentions…but so long as he was playing with himself, he might as well go all-out. He moved over to his unexpected find, cheeks burning red with humiliation even though he was alone. Anyone who saw him this way would…

…no, no, this wasn’t about other people. This was him, enjoying himself, and he wasn’t going to let Merle’s snickering voice on the edge of his subconscious rob him of that. When was the last time he’d done something just to enjoy it? And this was a fucking apocalypse; he’d take his kicks where he could get them, however unorthodox they were. His cock sprang free as he worked his way into the unmanageable tangle that formed the top - god, how did women do this? - rubbing more and making his knees shake slightly.

Once everything was on, he looked over himself with a frown. It took him a while to figure out how to make his new ensemble work for him. He couldn’t touch himself on his chest and below the belt at the same time, not if he wanted to get both nipples. Soon, though, he figured out that leaning against the wall and canting slightly would work the top, with the added bonus of the cool sensation of the tile wall. He dropped both hands to his groin, thumbing the pearls with one hand and rubbing his index finger along his tip with the other.

He froze, face burning red, when he heard the shocked hiss of ‘oh my god’ from off to his left.

Daryl looked over like a deer caught in headlights, his emotions raging between humiliation and rage. How dare someone catch him like this. How dare that someone be Rick-fucking-Grimes, their superior leader with all his superior ways. How dare Rick look at him like that, with his mouth in a thin line and his pupils blown wide, with his breath coming all fast like he…like he…Daryl’s eyes slowly widened.

No fucking way.

“Turn around, sheriff,” Daryl panted, not wanting to admit for even a moment that the way Rick was staring at him was making him harder. He turned and put his back to the wall, trying to look as intimidating as possible. He wasn’t surprised that it didn’t work.

“You look good, Daryl.” There wasn’t even a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Real good.”

Daryl’s cock twitched, and he had to swallow a whine. “I mean it. You go back in the direction you come from unless you…” He trailed off there, not quite willing to put it to words.

“Unless I what?” Rick asked, approaching with obvious hunger. “Plan on following through?”

Daryl stared at him as he came closer, throat working over a nervous lump before he finally managed, “…yeah.”

“What do you want me to do, Daryl?”

Daryl was light-headed. This couldn’t be real. No fucking way. Here he was in women’s delicates, getting himself off, when Rick comes in and puts himself under his control? Impossible.

But if it wasn’t real, then it was a dream. And if it was real, Rick was more than used to Daryl’s gritty mannerisms. Either way, Daryl realized, he got his way.

“I want to watch you suck me off, sheriff. Want you down on your knees, touching yourself while you work me right.”

If Rick was surprised by the order, it didn’t show. It did show on Daryl’s face, however, that he was surprised when Rick complied, sinking slowly to his knees, running calloused hands over Daryl’s scarred torso. His fingers darted out to play with the pearls on his chest, gently pinching his nipples between his thumbs and the white, rounded beads. Daryl couldn’t contain his whine this time, and it rose to a moan when Rick flicked his tongue out to tease at the string of beads over his cock.

“Rick,” he keened softly, watching with growing need as Rick ghosted his lips along his shaft, licking and pressing soft kisses to the skin. He’d done this before; he had to have. The thought was interesting, and Daryl found himself even more invested in their activities for it.

Rick didn’t tease long - he soon slid his lips over the blood-flushed head of Daryl’s arousal, dragging his tongue over the slit before inching further down, more, and more, until his nose was nestled in the soft, musky curls beneath Daryl’s navel. Daryl’s legs were shaking now, thighs quivering every time Rick’s throat tensed. “Fucking hell, Rick, ‘s good..!”

Rick let out a small breath through his nose, almost like a laugh as if to say ‘I know’. Then he bobbed his head, hollowing his cheeks as he moved, and Daryl couldn’t care what else he did so long as he didn’t stop doing that. The flat of Rick’s tongue was pressed hard on the underside of his shaft, the pressure just enough to make each motion jolt through him like electricity. And all the while, with every motion, the pearls rubbed against him, still milking that pleasure from him.

Rick was touching himself obediently, Daryl realized after a moment. He had freed his own cock from its khaki confines, fingers of his left hand curled around it while the thumb pressed at the head, squeezing out cloudy drops of fluid with each throb of his pulse. His right hand was on Daryl’s thigh, squeezing in time with each rise and fall of his head. Watching him was like getting drunk - Daryl’s head spun, his world pitched, and he tangled his fingers into Rick’s hair for stability. Rick groaned at the tug on his scalp, pulling back more, then taking him all the way in again.

Daryl was hardly surprised that Rick had him coming in mere minutes. It had been too long…and if he was being perfectly honest, no one had ever given him head that good anyway. That, combined with the underwear - and how sexy it made him feel once he realized someone was into it - left him a panting mess, his eyes wet with tears by the time the heat fanning through his body actually founds its focus. Daryl’s toes curled against the tile when he came, only just choking out a warning for Rick. Rick made it clear that he had no interest in pulling away, moaning roughly around the sudden mouthful Daryl left him with, pulling away with a soft pop so he could voice his own pleasure with a bit more volume. Daryl watched, dazed, sated, and completely enthralled, as Rick’s hands flew over his own member, working at places that made Rick shiver. A thin line of semen ran from the corner of his mouth, and right before Rick came, Daryl found himself wishing that he’d had a more immediate role in Rick’s climax.

Not that Rick seemed bothered. Once he’d finished, he leaned back against the wall and caught his breath, taking a moment to regain himself before scrubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

“God, that was good,” Rick murmured. “I needed that.”

“You and me both,” Daryl responded, finally obeying his weakened knees and sinking to the floor. He let his head fall back, eyes closing as he took in the moment. He’d always thought that if he ever got desperate enough to fuck a man, there’d be some awful tension at the end of it, a disgust with himself.

Now, he got the feeling that he didn’t have to be desperate. He wasn’t disappointed or revolted. He just wanted to know that it could happen again if they were of a mind for it.

After another long moment of silence, not uncomfortable for either of them, Rick slid him a sated smirk. “So, I’m curious - why the underwear?”

Daryl regarded the black-and-pearl numbers with some residual embarrassment. “I wanted something clean. The only things left are in ladies’ shops.”

“Mmh.” Rick leaned in close and brushed a kiss over the line of his jaw, near his ear, before he whispered in a tone heavy with promise, “Bring them with you when we leave.”

Daryl’s heart skipped a beat and he returned that smirk. “Yes sir, sheriff.”


End file.
